


Will Is No Beatrice

by DreamerInSilico



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Romantic Fluff, prompt: "voice", vaguely angsty too because let's face it they kinda inherently are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamerInSilico/pseuds/DreamerInSilico
Summary: Sometimes it takes something starkly different to let you see the important details clearly.





	Will Is No Beatrice

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a prompt table on Dreamwidth, for the prompt, "voice."

“What do you think Dante would have to say about us?”  Will smiles slightly as he asks the question, and there is much to delight in that expression on his face _(subtly wry, always ready for the joke to turn out to be what he’s saying, even though he isn’t intending to tell one)_ , but what strikes Hannibal most profoundly in this moment is his tone.  It is light, and un-self-consciously, earnestly curious.

Much like the very first murder Hannibal committed strictly for Will’s benefit, it is so very _not_ the way Will has spoken to him through… truly, most of their history together _(since their very first betrayals)_ , that it throws all that history of verbal circling into stark relief.  It is _not_ a barb.  It is _not_ a test.  It is _not_ the first in a chain of weighted inquiries in which they will each try to lead one another along an intended, perilous path.  It is _not_ the verbal equivalent of one of Will’s fishing lures, bright and fascinating and oh so tempting, despite subliminal knowledge of the hook just below.

It’s just a pleasant, faintly humorous, and contemplative question toward a loved one, nodding to their beautiful, ugly, bloody history but for once not carrying the weight of it.

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal has to sigh, all warm fondness and the beautiful, cool liquid welling of _relief_ that he hadn’t known he was waiting for, hoping for, longing for.  He had known they would be together, physically. He had not quite been able to be confident of the subtle particulars.  

“No, really!” Will begins in protest, before his eyes flick over Hannibal’s face and something he sees there makes him pause, and soften, and lift a hand, not even hesitating, to brush careful fingertips across his cheekbone.  

They are both still recovering from their injuries, Hannibal himself only very recently out of the proverbial woods from Dolarhyde’s bullet, but there is such careful promise in that touch.

Will isn’t quite asking for a quote, but Hannibal has one, anyway.  “And then I saw Love coming from far away, saying, ‘you think you can honor me,’ and with each word, laughing.”  

Will is no Beatrice, innocent and loved before knowledge, but Hannibal thinks the poet might still recognize something of his great courtly love in their blood-drenched and glorious tale.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on something much larger in scope for this fandom - I'm late to the party but dove in head first, and damn, the water's great! - but this is what my brain did today and I'm pretty okay with it.


End file.
